Thought Crimes
by apychopathsutopia
Summary: The BAU is brought to New Hampshire, where they're chasing an UNSUB with a serious God complex, also acting on dangerous delusions. Something about the case draws attention to an unspoken turbulence between Reid and Morgan, and even Hotch is concerned for their future. Rated T because it's Criminal Minds and there's death and some cursing and stuff. Oh, and established Moreid.
1. Are You Prepared?

_There are some direct quotations here from_ 1984 _, by George Orwell, and I'd just like to say that, in addition to not owning Criminal Minds, that brilliant dystopian novel does not belong to me. The twisted nature of the story belongs exclusively to George Orwell, and all the credit goes to him. I have used one scene in particular in that book in which Winston and Julia are taking the oath allowing them into the anti-Big Brother club, or whatever the proper name of it is, and I am using that to get inside of the twisted mind of a fictional serial killer-y OC that I have created. Direct quotations from the novel are underlined._

 _So there's the information, I hope you like it._

 _Also, this will have established Moreid._

* * *

"Please let us go," the black-haired woman pleaded. Her voice was shaky and filled with tears and she hardly tried to hide her fear from the intruder. She was sitting on her knees, vulnerable and submissive, on the bed in the motel room that she and her husband had been staying in while on their couples hiking trip together, and she pulled her handcuffed hands together as a sign of begging. "Please; we didn't do anything!"

"You will understand that I must start by asking certain questions," the intruder said, his voice deep, calm, and firm. His right hand held a .22 pistol, pointed directly at the woman's husband, who was sitting beside her, his jaw set and his eyes aflame. The intruder just ignored him. "In general terms, what are you prepared to do?"

" _Anything_!" the woman sobbed, bowing her head as tears flowed freely from her eyes. "I'll do anything! Just please don't hurt him -"

"You are prepared to give your life?" the man interrupted in a solemn voice.

"Y-yes."

"You are prepared to commit murder?"

The woman looked up at this, her tears momentarily slowing in her confusion. "I -"

The man's thin lips were pulled thinner at her hesitation and he repeated in a forced patient voice, "You are prepared to commit murder?"

"I -" she turned to look at her husband, but he had his eyes fixed determined at the man. At her husband's silence, a small dispute was settled in her mind. In an unsure voice, she said, "Yes."

The man continued, his voice steady. "You are prepared to commit acts of sabotage which may cause the death of hundreds of innocent people?"

If the woman was confused before, this question completely baffled her. She couldn't speak for a moment before squeaking, " _What?_ "

The man growled, pressing the nose of the gun into the husband's forehead.

Panic spread across the woman's face. "Yes, I will! I will!"

The man's fingers relaxed slightly on the gun as he continued. "You are prepared to betray your country to foreign powers?"

The woman quirked her eyebrows. "What do you mean, betray -"

The man pointed the gun at the ceiling, fired, and lowered it back to the husband's face again. " _Are you prepared -_ "

"Yes, I'm prepared," the woman said, the tears gathering at the corners of her eyes again. "I'm prepared! Please -"

"You are prepared to cheat, to forge, to blackmail -"

"I'm prepared, I'm prepared," the woman chanted as if it were a practiced tear-filled mantra. "I'm prepared, I'm -"

"Let me _finish_ ," the man snapped at her.

The woman tried to wipe her eyes, but the handcuffs secured tightly around her wrists made doing so very difficult. "I'm sorry -"

"You are prepared to cheat, to forge, to blackmail, to corrupt the minds of children, to distribute habit-forming drugs, to encourage prostitution, to disseminate venereal diseases - to do anything which is likely to cause demoralization and weaken the power of the Party?"

"Yes, I'm prepared; just please -"

"If, for example," the man interrupted in a loud voice, "it would somehow serve our interests to throw sulfuric acid in a child's face - are you prepared to do that?"

The woman's stomach flipped over and she felt like vomiting. The feeling only intensified when she found herself whispering, " _Yes_." She flinched at her own voice, and squeezed her eyes shut, hoping that her husband wasn't watching her.

The man thought nothing of her response. "You are prepared to lose your identity and live out the rest of your life as a waiter or a dock worker?"

The captured woman was hardly listening to the questions, so disgusted was she with herself. "Yes."

"You are prepared to commit suicide, if and when we order you to do so?"

The woman lifted her eyes at the word suicide and held the man's gaze for a few, brutally long seconds, before looking back at the floor. "Yes."

The man's shoulders loosened when he realized it had finally happened. The dullness in her voice combined with her lack of tears, told him that she was defeated. He won. He had broken her. "You are prepared, the _two_ of you ," he added, moving the gun from the husband to the woman, "to separate and never see each other again?"

The woman's blood ran cold. "What -"

" _Are you fucking prepared to never see each other again?_ " the man roared angrily, waving the gun between the couple in front of him at a dangerously fast rate.

"We can't -" the woman said helplessly, finally catching the eye of her husband who looked at her very sadly and desperately. "Not after -"

"Your answer is no?" the man asked, his attention zeroing in on the wild-eyed woman.

The woman looked at her husband for a few seconds longer before taking a deep breath and saying, "My answer is no."

The man lowered the gun to his side and rubbed his aching shoulder. He'd held the gun up for an excruciating amount of time. His voice was calm and collected as he said, "You did well to tell me. It's necessarily for us to know everything."

The husband tore his gaze away from his wife to look back at the man. "Who's us?"

But the intruder didn't answer.


	2. Rat Torture

Hello, all! Please tell me how I'm doing; this is my first Criminal Minds fic, and I want to make sure I get everything right, or as close to right as possible. Let me know!

* * *

 _"One does not become enlightened by imaginary figures of light, but by making the darkness conscious. The latter procedure, however, is disagreeable and therefore unpopular." - Carl Jung_

* * *

"Good _morning_ , Pretty Boy."

Reid groaned and turned away from the voice, tugging the blankets up to his chin.

Morgan chuckled softly. "Up and at 'em, Reid. I just got a text from Garcia. Case."

The young genius didn't move.

Morgan folded his arms and said, manipulatively, "I've just put some coffee on -"

As much as Reid tried to fight it, his eyes blinked open and he sluggishly sat up. The sun had just barely risen, and, even though the windows were closed, Reid still felt that strange sensation that it was just too early to be awake. Through a yawn, Reid said, "Case right _now?_ What time it is?"

"Six-thirty," Morgan said, slapping Reid's shoulder lightly and walking back toward the bedroom door. "Hotch is expecting us in about thirty minutes, so get a move on!"

"Why don't _you_ get a move on," Reid mumbled under his breath, lifting his arms above his head in a sloppy stretch.

"I heard that, Pretty Boy," came Morgan's lighthearted voice from the other side of Reid's bedroom door.

The genius smiled. He liked it when Morgan spent the night at his house. It was familiar; it felt right.

Reid showered as fast he he could - as much as he loved the sensation of the hot water on his back, he was too tired to want to stand still for the duration of a full-length shower - and grabbed the first button-up shirt, tie, sweater vest, and pair of pants he saw. He checked his watch and grinned when he saw that the whole process had only taken him seven minutes and thirty-eight seconds. A new personal best.

Reid joined Morgan in his kitchen, where a cup of coffee was already waiting for him.

"Look who's finally vertical," Morgan commented warmly, holding up a large mug for Reid to take.

"Thanks for the coffee," Reid said gratefully, taking it from him and swallowing a generous-sized gulp. He smiled. "And you even made it right!"

Morgan laughed, turning away so that he could make his own coffee. "I don't need an eidetic memory to pay attention."

Something had been on Reid's mind recently that was very, very important, but he had never quite found the right time to bring it up. He'd discussed it with Morgan a few times prior to that morning, and each time the argument ended with neither of them talking properly for a few days. But the proposal on Reid's end was too important to ignore. It was a neon sign, in Reid's opinion, that signified something in the relationship wasn't functioning as well as it should have been.

Reid figured now was as good a time as any. Perhaps better, actually, because Morgan had just woken up and was a bit less prepared for the conversation than he normally was. Reid watched Morgan steadily, holding his coffee cup to his lips thoughtfully. After a few moments of silence, he said tentatively, "Hey, Morgan?"

Without looking up, Morgan said, "Yeah?"

"Can I ask you something?"

At Reid's hesitation, Morgan turned around. "Of course, Pretty Boy. Something wrong?"

Reid took a deep breath. "Before you get mad at me, just hear me out -"

Morgan's jaw clenched. "If this is what I think it's about, then -"

Reid set his cup on the counter so that he was giving Morgan his undivided attention. He didn't mess any time getting straight to the main point of the disagreement. "Well, Morgan, I just don't see why we can't tell them. The whole team already knows; what's the difference?"

"The difference is they're my family and I'm not ready to tell them yet," Morgan said in a firm voice.

"But they'll be happy, I'm sure of it -"

"Well, I'm very happy _you're_ sure of it, but it's not your call, Spencer."

Reid blinked. Morgan only called him by his first name when they were in a fight, or when Morgan was very angry at the world in general. To put it simply, it didn't happen very often.

"They're my family and I'll decide when it's time to tell them." Morgan narrowed his eyes, as if daring Reid to pursue the subject. "Now leave it alone."

"I can't leave it alone!" Reid said, a scowl on his face. "We've been together for four months, one week, and three days; don't you think it's time -"

Morgan forced his voice to stay calm as he said, "Leave it. Alone."

"What, are you ashamed of me or something?"

" _Don't_ turn this around on me," Morgan said angrily. "You _know_ I'm not ashamed of you, so stop trying to manipulate me, because I know that that's exactly what you're doing. You think you know everything there is to know about everyone; well, guess what? You don't." Morgan took a deep breath, trying very desperately to control his anger. "How is it you think you know my family better than me?"

For a second, Reid was taken aback by Morgan's outburst. "I-I don't know," he admitted.

Morgan turned his back to continue with his coffee, but his voice was just as angry as he said, "Well, in your high-and-mighty, IQ-of-187 mind, that's a first." Morgan rubbed at his eyes. "Why're you bringing it up now, of all times?"

"Figured I'd catch you off guard?" Reid said in a small voice.

The bald man scoffed bitterly. "Ah, and so the secret's out. You thought you'd attack while my armor was down." Morgan faced his boyfriend, his mug of coffee in hand and a scowl on his face. "Well congratulations, _Pretty Boy_. You don't know me as well as you thought."

Morgan brushed past Reid without a second glance, but all Reid could do was watch him walk away. He knew he shouldn't have brought it up. He knew he should've apologized and let it go like Morgan suggested. But enough was enough. Reid hated that Morgan's family didn't know the two of them were dating; it killed him that Morgan didn't feel comfortable enough with their relationship to share it will his mother and sisters.

Besides, Reid had told his schizophrenic mother that he had a boyfriend, and he was terrified the whole time. He didn't know his mother's stance on homosexuals; with her in a constant cycle of aware and distant, the subject had never really come up at all.

But Reid had done it for Morgan, and it hurt that Morgan wasn't willing to do it for him.

Reid was sure he wasn't going to back down. He was in the right. It was Morgan that had a problem.

* * *

Reid and Morgan rode the elevator to the sixth floor in complete silence. Ever since their tiff that morning, neither felt much for conversation. Any outsider would clearly be able to see the tension in their body language: they weren't standing all that close for a couple, but they also didn't press themselves away from each other. They had an appropriately-sized bubble of personal space, but they stood stiffly. Reid held tightly to the book bag that crossed over his shoulder and stared fixedly at the ceiling. Morgan, on the other hand, had folded his arms in front of his chest and watched the numbers change as they neared their destination.

When the doors finally slid open, neither man could leave fast enough.

"Oh, _there_ you two are," Garcia said hurriedly from the bullpen doorway. She looked flustered and a little green in the face and she hardly had a smile to spare for her two good friends.

"Something wrong, Baby Girl?" Morgan asked, looking her up and down with a worried frown.

Garcia met his eyes and her bottom lip stuck out slightly. "Yes. There's a case, and it's, uh..." She swallowed and turned away. "Hurry."

Reid and Morgan glanced at each other and followed the tech expert to the conference room. Garcia had never acted that evasive before. Sure, if a case particularly bothered her, she would make sure Morgan and Reid knew about it, as she would prattle on and on about how much she wanted to drown her sorrows in kitten videos and fuzzy blankets, but never had a case so completely silenced her. That was what concerned the two men the most.

Everybody was already seated by the time Morgan, Reid, and Garcia arrived. Hotch glanced up in annoyance, his lips pulled in a familiar frown. "Let's get started."

Garcia stood in front of the giant television and said, "Okay, so before I put the pictures up on the screen, I'd just like to warn you guys that they may induce vomiting, which is why _I'm_ not going to be looking and from the bottom of my heart, I wish you all had that luxury, but here we go."

Garcia pushed a button and the picture of a smiling black-haired woman came up on the screen. "This is Andrea Tessa, aged 27, from Ridgeway, New Hampshire. Her and her husband, Ralph," Garcia pushed the button again, "Went missing from their motel room while they were on a hiking trip in the nearby woods."

"Was there any surveillance footage of them leaving?" JJ asked.

"No; the motel they had stayed at was not blessed to have proper security, but there were signs of a struggle." Garcia took a deep breath before she clicked the button again."This, my poor, sweet doves, is what was left of Andrea's body, discovered in the woods six miles away from the motel she and her husband had been staying in."

The entire team shifted uncomfortably, looking away from the picture and instead focusing on the case file in front of them.

"Andrea and Ralph's bodies were found miles away from each other, but they were both in the worship position," Garcia added, clicking the button again to show the grotesque corpse of Ralph Tessa.

"Any idea what caused the, uh . . ." Reid wiped his palm over his mouth. "The bite marks?"

"That's an unfortunately excellent question, Dr. Reid, and the coroner's best guess is a very large rodent."

Rossi leaned back in his office chair and asked, "Cause of death?"

Garcia pushed her glasses back on the bridge of her nose and said, "This is where it gets interesting, and when I say interesting, I mean absolutely gross and monstrous and disgusting - both victims received a fatal gunshot wound to the chest."

"Were the bite marks postmortem?" Hotch asked, flipping through the paper file.

"The fact that the bite marks were primarily on the cheeks and nose suggest that the rodents were forced on the victims by the UNSUB, while the excessive amount of blood indicates they were delivered while the victims were still alive," Reid said.

"Besides," Rossi added, "Both victims were found in a forest, and last I checked, squirrels aren't prone to eating human flesh."

"So, he's a sadist," Blake stated.

"There isn't a _word_ to describe how sick this guy is," Garcia said, clicking the button a third and fourth time. "Rachel and Arnold Murphy were found two weeks ago in the same forest, miles away from each other with wounds identical to the Tessa's."

"Two weeks?" JJ said incredulously, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "With an MO like this, that's not much of a cooling off period."

"Were all the victims kidnapped from the same motel?" Morgan asked.

"No such luck, my sweet," Garcia said, shaking her head. "There are _oodles_ of motels around this forest; it's a very popular spot for hikers and tourists."

"If that area is frequented by tourists, as well as locals, then that means that our UNSUB has a fertile hunting ground, rich with possible victims," Hotch said, closing the manila folder and pushing his chair out. "Wheels up in 20."


	3. The One With The Eyes

Once again, direct quotes are underlined. Please, please, _please_ tell me what you think. Seriously, reviews are so helpful! Even if you don't like it; just let me know!

* * *

"The coroners blamed the bite marks on large rodents," JJ mused, staring at the photographs. She was trying to condition herself to the sight; she'd have to come face-to-face with the corpses at some point, anyway; there was no point in acting squeamish.

"In all likelihood, the large rodents are rats," Reid responded.

"Before we debilitate reasoning behind the UNSUB's MO, let's work through the victims first, please," Hotch said in a firm voice, his eyes sweeping the group to make sure they were all listening. Especially Reid and Morgan. They had been distracted and frustrated as soon as they walked in the door of the conference room, and Hotch had noticed it right away. He just hoped they could put aside their differences and ignore whatever they had argued about for the duration of the case. He needed their minds. And a large part of him - oh, who was he kidding? all of him - wanted the two men to sort each other out. He'd never actually say it out loud, but he was rooting for them. He respected both men for who they were, and together, he knew they'd do great things.

"Well, our UNSUB definitely has a type," JJ said, looking at the pictures of the four victims. She was leaning back against the seat of the jet across the table from Blake, who laid out all the victims' photographs and said,

"If you put the pictures side by side, the women look nearly identical, as do the men."

"Could he be targeting parental figures?" Morgan asked, from one of the seats facing the table.

"None of the victims had children," Reid immediately responded, staring adamantly at the file in his lap. He hadn't arrived in time to snag a seat in the main section, so he was forced to sit beside Morgan, but that didn't mean he had to pay attention to the dark-skinned man. Judging by Morgan's lack of speaking directly to the genius, it seemed as if the feeling was more or less mutual. "So, no."

Morgan glanced sharply at Reid, the first sign Morgan had shown that he even realized his boyfriend was in the same room. "But the couples could resemble the UNSUB's parents -"

"It's possible, but highly unlikely," Reid answered, maintaining eye contact with the papers in his lap. "There are no wounds to suggest personal vengeance -"

"These people got their faces bitten off by rats," Morgan said flatly. "I don't think it can get more personal than that -"

Reid shook his head, still staring transfixed at the file. "If this were a man living out his fantasy of murdering his parents, he'd most likely let the rats kill the victims instead of shooting them point blank."

"So, it's possible that the bullet to the chest was the UNSUB showing mercy?" JJ asked, interjecting in the argument between the two men.

"Sadistic with a God complex," Rossi said, setting his folder on the table and folding his hands over his stomach. "I love those."

"I find the use of rats in the killings very interesting," Reid said distantly, finally looking up from the case file and focusing on a passing cloud. "It suggests that the UNSUB is patient and willing to wait for an undetermined amount of time before watching his victims suffer."

"Patience and organization go hand-in-hand in murders similar to these," Blake said.

"So, he's organized," JJ said. "He's not likely to make a mistake; he seems to have a pretty good handle on what he's doing."

"But why rats?" Rossi asked. "Rats would have to mean something important to the UNSUB."

"In 1909, Sigmund Freud released a case study of a man nicknamed the "Rat Man," who was supposedly so deeply obsessed with rats that he'd have nightmares and fantasies involving them," Reid said.

"But the UNSUB isn't just having fantasies about rats," Morgan said. "He's utilizing them to fit his fantasies."

"Right," Reid said slowly, "But an obsession with rats -"

"Rat Man and the UNSUB aren't similar enough for there to be probable correlation, Reid," Morgan replied shortly.

Reid finally looked at Morgan, taken aback by his tone. Reid hadn't thought he'd been provoking him; at least, he wasn't trying to. He was aware that when he got angry and upset he grew more and more sarcastic and passive aggressive, but at that moment, he'd been too preoccupied with the case to really want to partake in petty snarks. When he didn't find the regret in Morgan's eyes that he was hoping to see, Reid looked back down at his case file and didn't look up again.

Hotch looked up and stated firmly, "Morgan," to which Morgan responded with silence.

"The murders started one month ago," Blake said, trying to leap over the little tiff and continue the conversation. "Something must've triggered the UNSUB into getting violent."

"He'd clearly been thinking about rats for a long time," Hotch added. "This was premeditated; it wasn't spur of the moment. The murders were planned meticulously, so there may have been a trigger that caused the killings, but the UNSUB had been planning something along these lines for quite some time."

Garcia suddenly appeared on the tablet sat propped up on the table. "Hello, it's Penelope Garcia, playing the role of the bearer of bad news, yet again."

"What happened?" Hotch asked.

"A man and a woman were just reported missing from the Pinewood Motel; I'm sending their pictures to your tablets."

JJ sighed when she saw the photographs of the black-haired, thin woman and the average-built, blonde man. "They fit the UNSUB's victim description."

"Almost to the tee," Rossi said in agreement.

"Were the bodies identified?" Blake asked.

Garcia nodded. "Maria and Ryan Robinson were both kidnapped last night and reported missing this morning.

"If the UNSUB continues to follow his schedule, then we have six days to find them," Hotch pointed out, returning his attention to the case file.

"That's enough time, I think," Rossi said in a contemplative voice.

"Thanks, Garcia," Hotch said. (The blonde technician responded with a cheeky, "Anything to help the dream team.") "JJ and Reid,"Hotch continued, I want you two to check out the crime scenes. Morgan and Rossi, you two go interview the motels that the Tessa's and the Murphy's disappeared from, and Blake, I'd like you to go to the coroners office."

Everybody nodded their understanding.

* * *

"You betrayed the Party."

"I don't know what the Party is," the woman insisted through a thick wave of tears. "Why don't you believe me?"

"Don't deceive yourself," the man responded, heartlessly. "You did know it - you've always known it."

"No," the woman sobbed, "I don't know it! I don't know it, I don't know it -"

"Leave us alone! We didn't do anything wrong! We don't even know who you are!" the husband shouted. He hadn't said much up until then, and the UNSUB turned to look at him with an amused expression.

The UNSUB knelt down in front of the man restrained on the floor. He smiled sickly. "Don't worry, Winston. You are in my keeping. For seven years I have watched over you. Now the turning point has come. I shall save you. I shall make you perfect."

The husband tried to move away, but the UNSUB leaned down further and nestled his chin against the man's cheek. "We shall meet in the place where there is no darkness."

* * *

"The bodies were suffering from malnutrition," the coroner said, lifting up the long, blue blanket to reveal the mutilated corpse. "I'd say whoever kidnapped them didn't bother to feed them or give them water."

Blake slipped some rubber gloves on her hands and lifted the wrist of Arnold Murphy. "I don't see any defensive wounds. That tells me that they were likely taken at gunpoint. Maybe one was used as a hostage to get the other to cooperate. Were there any drugs found in their systems?"

The coroner shook her head. "No, they were clean. "

Blake carefully placed the wrist back down on the table.

"There's something else," the coroner added. "Something was stuffed into the mouths of the victims."

Blake raised an eyebrow.

The coroner pulled out a plastic bag, a small slip of damp paper inside. "I didn't want to look at it. Figured I'd save it for when you guys showed up."

"Thank you very much," Blake said with a nod. She took the bag from the coroner, opened it, and, with a grimace of disgust on her face, pulled the paper out. Carefully, she unfolded it and sighed when she saw the pristine, obsessively-perfect drawing.

* * *

"I can see why this place attracts so many people," Morgan commented. He and Rossi pulled into the parking lot of the Cliffrock Motel, where the Tessa's had been kidnapped. As he opened his car door, he added, "Nice and quiet, scenic hiking paths, a pond."

"Not to mention the abundance of motels, so that camping outside in actual tents isn't really necessary."

Morgan nodded but didn't respond.

Rossi looked at other man for a moment, reading his tense and stressed body language. "So, how're you and Reid doing?"

The younger man sighed and adjusted his sunglasses. "Is it that obvious?"

"The kid's never been able to hide his emotions very well," Rossi said, putting his hands in his pockets. "And it doesn't help that you jump on him every chance you get."

"Hey, Reid's the one that started this whole thing," Morgan said before he could stop himself.

"This whole thing," Rossi repeated, looking steadily at Morgan. "Mind if I ask what whole thing you're referring to?"

"Yes," Morgan said. "I do mind. Don't worry about us; we'll deal with it."

"If you two break up, it'll make working together very difficult," Rossi said, as the two men began walking to the motel entrance. "Take it from me; I know."

"Don't even joke about that," Morgan said in a serious voice.

Rossi held the door open for Morgan and they both stepped through. "I'm just saying, you have to look at these things realistically."

"Not yet, I don't," Morgan answered. He walked right up to the main desk, away from Rossi and the unbearable conversation they were having to say to the man behind the desk, "Excuse me, sir? Are you Mr. Sterling?"

The man looked up from the book he was reading and removed his spectacles. He raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, I am. Who wants to know?"

Rossi pulled his badge from his coat pocket and held it up for the man to see. "The FBI. Specifically, Agent Rossi."

"And Agent Morgan," Morgan added. "We'd like to ask you a few questions about the kidnapping that occurred here about a week ago?"

The man closed his book and put it on the desk. "I don't know nothing about that."

"Saying that you 'don't know nothing' is a double negative, indicating that you do, in fact, know something," Morgan said, folding his arms. He exhibited confidence, but on the inside he was cursing himself for having picked up on Reid's obnoxious way of speaking.

Judging by the look on Rossi's face, the parallels didn't go unnoticed.

Mr. Sterling stood up and rested his knuckles on the desk, leaning forward. "Listen, there ain't no footage of them being stolen. I certainly didn't see nothing; I try to keep away from the folks that stay here -"

"Your accent," Rossi interrupted. "You're not from around here?"

Mr. Sterling nodded. "Moved from Tennessee a couple years ago. Nothin' like New England leaves, that's what I always heard. Had to see for myself."

Morgan removed his sunglasses. "So you moved up from the south to own a motel?"

Mr. Sterling hesitated. "Well, it wasn't all that simple. Some others involved. Nothin' bad, a'course," he assured. "I can tell you, I didn't come here to see the people. I leave the people alone. They write the check, I give 'em the key. That's the way it works 'round here."

Morgan fished the photograph of the Tessa's from his pocket and slid them on the desk to Mr. Sterling. "Ever give them a key?"

Mr. Sterling put his glasses back on, picked up the pictures, and studied them briefly. "Maybe. I don't remember. Like I said, I leave the people alone. I don't look to see who comes and who goes."

Rossi and Morgan exchanged glances.

"Well, if you think of something," Rossi said, pulling his card out of his coat pocket, "Just give us a call."

Mr. Sterling took the card and nodded. "Sure thing."

* * *

"Why rats?" JJ asked, disgust hiding at the back of her throat. She turned away from the body to look at the surrounding trees. "Seems a bit over-complicated just to torture someone."

"Although rat torture is difficult to ensure, the torturer will often find that the desired results are well worth the wait," Reid responded.

"I can see that," JJ said, with a nod. "So, uh, what's going on with you and Morgan?"

Reid cleared his throat, kneeling in front of the body. He completely ignored the question, and instead said, "The bodies are posed in a prayer-like position."

JJ sighed and relented. She knew it would take a lot of patience to get Reid to talk, so she let it slide, but made a mental note to bring it up when the conditions weren't so gruesome. "You think that these crimes are religiously motivated?"

"It's _possible_ , but rats in the Bible, when mentioned, didn't play a significant role," Reid said. "I doubt the UNSUB found the presence of rats in the Bible particularly memorable. I think the positioning has more to do with submissiveness than religiosity."

"The UNSUB has a God complex," JJ said, comprehension dawning on her face. "He doesn't _need_ a higher power because he believes he _is_ the higher power."

"Or that he could at least become the higher power for those at his mercy," Reid added with a nod.

"Sometimes I'm baffled by how sickly creative people can be," JJ commented, glancing at the body briefly before turning away.

Reid would have answered her, but something caught his eye. On a tree a few paces to his right, he noticed something carved into the bark. He narrowed his eyes at it, before stepping around his blonde friend to get a closer look.

"Reid?" JJ asked, watching as he walked away. "You see something?"

Reid paused before responding, his fingers running along the carving. "The UNSUB carved something into the tree," he muttered.

"What is it?"

"An eye," Reid said in a quiet voice.

"Couldn't that just reinforce our theory of the God complex? God is always watching; the UNSUB is always watching?" JJ asked.

Reid stared at the carving, skeptically. "Maybe."

"You think it could be something else?" JJ asked.

"I don't know," Reid answered, turning away and standing right beside the body. He thought for a moment, before plopping down on the slightly damp dirt, crossing his legs, Indian style, and folding his hands in his lap.

JJ watched with a raised eyebrow, but didn't say anything. The team had learned long ago not to disturb Reid while he was working through theories in his mind. JJ had always been impressed and, to be honest, slightly spooked by how smart Reid consistently proved himself to be. She was so proud that Reid liked her so much, that he treated her as a sibling. Ever since the loss of her sister, JJ had been looking for a surrogate, but nothing had ever come of her search, until she had met Reid. They instantly took to each other, and she even had a mild crush on him towards the beginning. That is, until he came out and she realized that, yeah, he would probably make a better brother than boyfriend.

Suddenly, Reid jumped to his feet and said very fast, "She's surrounded!"

JJ blinked. "You're going to need to give me more than that, Spence -"

"Sorry, sorry," he said, gesturing grandly with his hands, his eyes looking slightly wild from his epiphany. "Look at how the body's position. Yes, it's in a sort of prayer position, but look where it is in relation to the trees."

JJ looked around. "She's in the middle of a clearing."

"Yes, a very small one," Reid said. "Andrea was positioned in a way so that she was surrounded, trapped on all sides. I can guarantee that Ralph's body is similarly placed." Reid jumped over a root, his body hyper-vigilant. "You see that tree there? That one's got an eye carved in it, as well. And this one," Reid bounded to another tree, "Has the final eye. The third eye. The victim was put in the center of a triangle, surrounded by eyes carved into the trees."

"What does that mean?" JJ asked.

Reid pursed his lips. "It means we need to call the group together."

* * *

Morgan and Rossi walked out of the second motel, without much luck.

"I can't believe these owners don't pay attention to the people who stay here," Morgan said, putting his sunglasses on.

"What do you expect them to do?" Rossi asked. "Pretend to be cordial to people they don't care about?"

Morgan shrugged. "It'd be better."

"Would it? Then how come you and Reid seem incapable of -"

"Look, Rossi, drop it, okay?" Morgan said, holding a silencing hand out.

Rossi put his hands up in a gesture of surrender.

When Morgan's pocket began to ring, he pulled his cell phone out, and answered, "Morgan."

Rossi put his hands in his pockets and waited for the say-so.

Morgan glanced at the shorter man and nodded. "Alright, we'll be right there."

* * *

"Yes, I'll see you in five." Blake ended the phone call, turned to the coroner, and said, "Thank you for all the help. I'll come back if I have any more questions."

The coroner nodded. "Of course. Anytime."

* * *

Reid hurried into the police building, into the back room where a white board was set up for them. (The police station wasn't well equipped; a single white board, a cramped conference room, and a virtually useless side room were all they could muster up. But Reid took it as it was. All he was used to he considered a luxury, not a necessity.)

The team was already inside, some sitting and some standing. The room truly was very small.

"Andrea's body was placed in the very center of a clearing," Reid immediately rattled off. JJ was trying to keep up with his long strides, and entered a few seconds after him. "On three trees that surrounded her, I found eyes carved into the bark."

Blake groaned. "The coroner found pieces of paper stuffed in the mouths of the victims, with guess-what drawn on them?"

Morgan folded his arms. "The persistent presence of eyes in both the crime scenes and inside the victim's bodies could further indicate his God complex and reinforce our theory of the UNSUB's increasingly strong delusions revolving around his being an all-seeing, omnipotent god." As soon as the words left his mouth, Morgan closed his eyes. He was subconsciously talking like Reid again.

Although Reid was in a fluster of adrenaline, he took the time to quirk his eyebrows at Morgan. Reid hadn't realized he'd affected Morgan's speech that much. For a moment, he felt amused, but then he remembered what he was doing, and the nature of the crimes he was solving, and his lips fell into a frown again.

"The bodies were also in a position of prayer," JJ added, hiding a smirk. Despite the situation, she found herself tickled by the interaction, and accidentally released a soft breath of a laugh.

All the eyes in the room turned the blonde-haired woman, but seconds later, the team ignored her.

"Reid, you said the body was placed in the center of the clearing?" Hotch asked.

Reid nodded. "The three trees were equidistant to where she lay."

"So, he's meticulous," Rossi said. "He plays close attention to detail and makes a point to ensure perfection in the crime scenes."

Hotch nodded. "JJ, call a meeting; we're ready to deliver the profile."

* * *

"The UNSUB is a white male, between the ages of 35-45. He mostly likely lives alone," Hotch began.

Reid twiddled his thumbs. Even though he'd delivered profiles numerous times, he'd never quite gotten used to speaking in front of a crowd. "Because of the use of rats in his killings, he likely owns the rodents as pets, but, because of his reclusive nature, few if any people would know this about him."

"He isn't memorable, which is why it's going to be so hard to catch him," Morgan added. "He blends in, and it's likely he does this on purpose."

"Judging by the areas that he deposits the bodies, it's clear he has an intensive knowledge about the forest," Blake said. "He probably lives in a remote cabin or small house."

"He's employed," Rossi continued, "But he most certainly doesn't work with people because of his social anxiety."

"For this, he's likely been fired from past jobs more than once, causing him to see a job with little to no human interaction," Morgan said.

"What's strange about this UNSUB is that., although he has a God complex, he is a true introvert," JJ said.

"Introverts, as opposed to extroverts, lose energy while in the company of other people and recharge, for lack of a better term, when they subject themselves to utter solitude," Reid explained.

JJ continued. "Typically, in criminals with God complexes, either a narcissistic personality disorder or generalized sense of superiority to the point of constantly putting others down is present."

"Because of his contradictory behavior in correspondence with his personality, it's going to be even more difficult to find him," Reid said. "Often times, when people live seemingly two different lives, there can be conflict when trying to balance both."

Morgan folded his arms and shook his head slightly. The passive aggression was coming out. Finally. It'd been long over-due.

"The UNSUB has consistently targeted people with similar appearances," Hotch continued. "The woman have black hair and a thin frame, while the men have blonde hair and an average body type. Those fitting the description should take care when hiking or camping near the forest."

"Look for awkward men who works behind the scenes in small businesses, most likely something that requires patience for meticulous detail. Stocking bookshelves by alphabetical order, filling prescriptions at a drug store, even helping in the backroom of a pet shop," Rossi said.

"Pet shops are a great place to start; it could explain how the UNSUB is getting his hands on the rats," Blake added.

"The UNSUB holds his victims for one week before disposing their bodies," Hotch said. "The Robinson's were kidnapped two days ago, leaving us a decreasing time frame. Do your best and stay safe. Thank you."

There was some murmur in the crowd of police officers as they stood and dispersed.


	4. Did You Ever Read 1984?

A/N: Domesticity.

* * *

"You'll love Big Brother," the man said, pacing back and forth in front of the kidnapped couple. "They always do. We're going to win, and then I'm going to kill you."

"But if we say we love Big Brother," Maria said, "Then why won't you let us go?"

"Because it'd be a lie!" the man snapped. "You can't lie about loving Big Brother, you simply _have_ to. Without question."

"We _can_ , though," the woman said hurriedly. "We can love Big Brother."

The man looked at her curiously. "You know the rules."

"No," she said shaking her head. "No, we don't -"

"You must love Big Brother, without question," he said. "You have to love Him with your whole being, with your soul, and you have to mean it. Otherwise," he added cynically, "You're committing Thought Crimes. And you know what we do with people who commit Thought Crimes." At the look on the two hostage's faces, he added, "Death, yes, but the Party cannot simply kill you without first proving ourselves victorious."

Maria looked up, her eyes widening as something clicked in her brain. Under her breath, she said, " _The Party..._ "

Ryan didn't hear her, instead taking a deep breath. "You keep mentioning a Party, but it's only you here."

"They sent me," was the gruff answer.

"Who did?"

"The _Party_ , you fool." The man shook his head and paced. "I was very intrigued by the two of you, having known _you_ for so long," the man gestured to Ryan, "So I was plenty eager to take the case."

"Look, man -"

" _My name is O'Brien_ ," the man said in a strained-patient voice.

"Okay, okay," Ryan said in a mediator's voice. "O'Brien. _I don't know who you are,_ " Ryan said, very slowly, very patiently. "I've told you before. You and I have _never_ met before."

"We worked together," O'Brien said, his voice wavering for a moment, before growing exponentially in strength. "Don't you remember?"

Ryan glanced at his wife. "I own a private business. I work alone -"

"Nonsense," the man called O'Brien dismissed. "I've been watching you for years. I know _exactly_ what you do."

* * *

"It's getting late," Hotch announced to the team. "Go get some sleep. There isn't much else we can do tonight."

Reid sighed and rubbed his eyes. As much as he hated to admit it, he was exhausted. He'd been worrying about falling asleep standing up, but he didn't want to the team to know that. They treated him like a child enough as it is; he didn't want to be given a bedtime. He grabbed his leather bag, swung it over his shoulder, and moved towards the door, as did Morgan, Blake, JJ, and Rossi, but Hotch called to their receding backs,

"But there is, uh . . . limited rooming space."

The team members slowly turned back to face him; they were annoyed, sure, but also much too tired to argue.

"How many rooms're we talking?" Morgan asked.

"Three."

 _Oh, how convenient_ , Reid thought bitterly. It was clear that the two women would room together, and no way in hell was Rossi rooming with either him or Morgan. He'd most likely want to sleep with Hotch; the two were great friends and probably didn't want to deal with Morgan and Reid's fight. And Reid talked in his sleep - Morgan had told him time and again that it was incredibly annoying, but he couldn't help it, and he was sure that he shouldn't be held accountable for the things his subconscious had to say.

He stifled a yawn and said in a slow voice, "Is there any way that I could maybe -"

"It'll just be for a few hours," Hotch said sternly, sorting some papers into a file. When nobody moved, he nodded at them and said, "Go. Get some sleep."

Reid groaned and glanced briefly at Morgan, who had clearly worked out the sleeping situation, and who also didn't look very pleased at all, but they trudged out anyway.

* * *

Reid dumped his book bag on the nearest flat surface, kicked his shoes off and put them beside each other against the wall, and stretched his long spindly limbs are far as they could go. He couldn't remember the last time he'd slept; it felt like so long ago. Morgan followed shortly behind, letting his bag of clothes just collapse in a pile by the door.

Reid turned at the noise and scowled sleepily. "You're just going to have to pick that up tomorrow morning, you know -"

"Reid, enough," Morgan interrupted, running a hand along his neck. "I'm too tired to fight right now, okay?"

The young genius sighed, rubbing his eyes. "Yeah, okay."

When Morgan disappeared into the bathroom of the hotel room the two men were forced to share, Reid sat down on his bed, (nearest the window, of course), and rested his head in his hands. He'd been having a really rough few days, and to be honest, sleep sounded better than anything else he could even imagine. And, if left alone, he could easily have fallen asleep in that position, and he was almost did, until the bathroom door opened and out stepped a virtually naked Morgan, rubbing one of his shoulders as if he was in pain.

Reid took in the sight without really meaning to. His eyes were too tired to move . . . yes, _that's_ why he couldn't look away. It had _nothing_ to do with the fact that Morgan was . . . big. And strong. And really, _really_ handsome...

Morgan caught Reid staring and scoffed, shaking his head. "I see some things never change."

Reid blinked, his cheeks turning a light shade of pink, and he looked away. "Well, if you were in my position, I'm sure you'd be feeling the same way."

Morgan raised his eyebrows in surprise. Every once in a while, Reid did things that Morgan never would have expected, and sometimes his flirting game was a bit stronger than normal. "Did you just compliment me, or yourself?"

The olive-skinned man shrugged sluggishly. "I don't know; too tired to really think properly." He hesitated. "But, you, uh . . . yes, I suppose I _was_ complimenting you."

Morgan sat down on his own bed, leaning his elbows on his knees. "Is that compliment served up with an apology?"

Reid pursed his lips, standing up and stretching. "Not today, it isn't."

"Then send it back to the kitchen because _I'm_ not hungry."

Reid gave Morgan a dirty look. "Fine." He pulled his sweater vest over his head and tossed it on the chair beside his bed. Next came his polka dot tie, his black button-up, and his black, tighter-than-they-probably-should-be pants. Reid shivered when his cold fingertips brushed against his warm olive skin. He pulled on his Star Wars pajamas - that Morgan himself had given him - and climbed sloppily into the nearest bed - the one that already contained someone - and rested his head on Morgan's shoulder.

"Um . . . Pretty Boy?"

Reid blinked an eye open sleepily. "What?"

There was a pause. "What're you doing?"

Reid nestled his head further into Morgan's warm skin and closed his eyes. "Going to sleep."

"But . . . we're fighting."

The genius didn't open his eyes. "Well, we're in the same room together. Which I'm not exactly pleased with, but you're really warm. And soft. And just 'cause we're fighting, does that mean we can't sleep in the same bed?"

Morgan sat up, Reid's head slipping off his shoulder and landing on the pillow. "Well . . . normally."

Reid sat up as well and scratched his head. "So?"

"So, I think you should go over to your bed."

Reid frowned, and glanced at the cold, lonely-looking bed beside him. "Do I _have_ to?"

The dark-skinned man sighed and rubbed his eyes. "At this point? I don't care." He laid back down on the bed but turned his back to Reid. "Do whatever, just don't wake me up."

Reid grumbled and faced away from Morgan's back. "Don't worry. I don't plan on it."

* * *

"Would you like to go to sleep?" O'Brien asked, pacing in front of the two hostages. He'd strapped them to separate beds position side-by-side, arms handcuffed to the posts on the headboard and their legs strapped together with two black leather beds.

Ryan and Maria exchanged glances, and something passed between each other, a silent understanding. Perhaps if they requested sleep, the man would leave and they'd be alone to talk...?

Ryan looked steadily at O'Brien, desperation fueling his foolishness. "Yes. We're both very tired."

O'Brien looked at them, his arms folded. He hadn't anticipated them saying yes; none of the others had said yes, instead claiming that they were too scared to sleep and that he should just let them go. O'Brien shook his head in amusement. "Very well. Even the most criminal of us all need sleep if they are to truly love Big Brother. Otherwise, you cannot clear your head, and to love Big Brother, the first thing you'll need is a clear, compliant head."

Ryan nodded readily, but didn't say anything.

With a fleeting look, O'Brien slowly turned around, and left through the door that they had all entered.

* * *

 _Knock, knock_.

Silence.

 _KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK_. "Spence! You alive in there?"

Reid groaned and opened one eye sleepily. He made an incoherent mumble noise his response.

"Spence, it's JJ!" the voice called. "Check the time, Einstein, Hotch needs us ready five minutes ago!"

Reid sighed, not yet wanting to give up the warmth that was -

Morgan's body.

The genius had somehow - in the middle of the night, while he was _not_ conscious and aware of his actions - gotten his entire torso enveloped by Morgan's strong, muscular arms.

He'd decided not to dwell on it; Reid would save all that for a different, more convenient time.

Reid didn't really take time to blush, but instead rubbed his eyes and sat up. He remembered the hint of complete and utter urgency that was in his practically-sister's voice. He was almost afraid to see what time it was, so turned his head slowly, hesitantly, to the digital clock on the bedside table and his eyes nearly bugged out of his head. " _Morgan,_ " he gasped, grabbing a pillow from the other bed and whapping the somehow-still-sleeping man on the chest. "We've woken up late!"

Morgan jerked awake and slapped at the air. When he realized what had happened, a brief and mild look of homicidal ideation flashed across his face. "Pretty Boy," he warned quietly, closing his eyes and biting his bottom lip to avoid shouting. "What the hell was that for?"

"We're late!" Reid reiterated, already on his feet and pulling his pajamas off. He took the time to nod at the clock. " _Look_."

Morgan glanced over and cursed under his breath, flinging the blankets off of him, rushing to his go bag, and fishing out whatever article of clothing he seized first. "How come you didn't wake me up?" Morgan asked bitterly.

Reid scowled, buttoning up his shirt as quickly as his thin, nimble fingers could. "Oh, I'm sorry. I was too busy sleeping -"

"Well, so was I!" Morgan was sitting on the bed, dressed only in jeans, pulling on a pair of socks.

"So it was _my_ responsibility?" Reid shot back, wrapping a tie underneath his collar.

"You're the genius!"

"You own a memory, too, you know," the olive-skinned man answered shortly. "You're not stupid! You're very smart, actually, and you shouldn't rely on me for everything, because _apparently_ , I'll let you down every once in a - son of a _bitch_ , will you help me tie my tie?"

Reid dropped his hands to his side, the tie hanging limply from his clenched fists. Judging by his flushed cheeks and pulled-tight lips, he looked about ready to breath lava.

Morgan ran a hand down his head, letting out a breath through his nose. He stood and grabbed the tie from Reid's hand, and pulled it around Reid's neck.

"Please don't kill me with it," Reid mumbled, lowering his head so he could watch Morgan's fingers work.

The dark-skinned man sighed and shook his head. "As much as I'd like to sometimes. . . ."

Something about statement made Reid smile. He was quiet for a moment, but when Morgan finished the last loop, he said, "You know, you're going to have to teach me how to do that someday."

Morgan tightened the knot so it hung just perfectly around the collar to Reid's shirt, and said, "Do what?"

"Tie a tie," Reid answered, tugging on the tie around his neck. "I'd really like to know how."

"You know, I don't get it," Morgan said, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Dr. Spencer Reid, with three P.h.D's, an eidetic memory, and an IQ of 187, can't tie a tie. Or use -"

Reid shook his head playfully and said, "You better not -"

"Or use chopsticks," Morgan finished teasingly.

Reid mock-glared at his boyfriend and folded his arms. "You know, these fingers _are_ good for some things."

Morgan nodded, a smirk growing on his face. "Oh, _yeah_ , do I know."

The genius smiled slightly and looked away. "I meant like . . . untying those complicated bows you get on Christmas presents without using scissors. Things like that."

"So," Morgan said slowly, "You can _un_ tie a knot, but you can't _tie_ a knot?"

Reid thought for a moment before nodding. "Precisely."

The two stood looking at each other for a moment, both considering what to say, when something in Reid snapped.

"We're going to be late."

Morgan rubbed his eyes, turning toward the door. "Oh, yeah."

When Reid started to follow him, Morgan held a hand out to stop him in his tracks. "Wait." He pointed at Reid's bare legs. "Where do you think you're going without any pants, genius?"

Reid looked downed and blushed. "Oh, yeah."

Morgan fought back a laugh, grabbing a t-shirt, slipping it over his head, and leaving the hotel room.

The genius ran an embarrassed hand down his face.

* * *

Ryan and Maria waited until O'Brien had truly left, straining their ears as the footsteps died away. They both let out a sigh of relief, and immediately turned to each other, saying in both equally panicked voices, "Are you okay?"

They both dismissed each other. "I'm fine."

"I'm worried about you," Ryan continued.

Maria shook her head. "Don't be. We don't have time to not be okay, Ryan; this guy is a maniac, we have to get out of here!"

Ryan nodded and sighed. "I know. I just don't know how." He turned to survey his surroundings thoroughly for the first time. Wherever they were, whatever building they were in, it was either an extremely decrepit basement or an abandoned building. Everything was concrete, from the walls to the ceiling to the floor, and the smell of must and dust bunnies intruded Ryan's nostrils, making his nose scrunch up. He hadn't had time to really process where he was, so preoccupied he was with his and his wife's kidnapper. Although the room was filthy, O'Brien certainly tried very hard to keep it at least habitable; the pile of dust and dirt in the corner of the room said that the man swept the floors, and the lack of dust on the headboard of the beds and the non-existent cobwebs in the corners said that the man had dusted. There was a single light bulb on the ceiling, without any covering, but it somehow lacked the maliciousness of the swinging light bulb one would expect in a room like the one Ryan and Maria were in.

Ryan shifted. The spring beds they were in were extremely uncomfortable and the mattresses were paper thin, and, now that he had a few moments away from absolute fear, he felt an ache in his back form.

He glanced at his wife, who had a dazed and thoughtful expression on her face. Ryan raised an eyebrow. "What is it?"

Maria quirked her eyebrows and it took her a few seconds to respond. "O'Brien actually feels familiar to me, Ryan."

Her breath hitched when the light suddenly went out, leaving them both in pitch darkness.

Ryan jumped as well, but he was more interested in Maria's words: the brief thought that his wife had cracked under the terror and had gone senile flashed through his mind, but he figured he'd go along with it. He knew his wife, and she was very smart, (although easily put in a passion), and, to be honest, he wouldn't be able to escape and cope without her. "Really?"

"Yes, and before you think I'm crazy hear me out."

Ryan nodded, although his wife couldn't see him. "I'm listening."

"You were a business major."

Ryan raised an eyebrow to the darkness. "Yes, you know that -"

Maria interrupted him impatiently. "No, listen. You were a business major, but you still had to take English classes; you still had to read the books they assigned."

Ryan looked in her general direction doubtfully. He still had no idea what she was talking about, but he trusted her entirely, and the fact that she had some sort of theory unraveling in her mind made him calm down immensely. "If our escape is banking on me doing my English assignments, I'm not sure how well -"

"What do you know about George Orwell?" Maria interrupted.

Ryan thought. "Um . . . _Animal Farm_ guy, right?"

"Yes, among other things," Maria answered. "Did you ever read _1984_?"


End file.
